


Worthy Enough

by JinxxMarquette



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Needs a Hug (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Other, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sharing a Bed, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 19:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20158873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxxMarquette/pseuds/JinxxMarquette
Summary: Aziraphale muses over the ineffable entity that is the demon Crowley





	Worthy Enough

Sometimes, it killed Aziraphale to think about the 6,000 years it took him to get his act together and admit his feelings for Crowley. Crowley, his wonderful demon who waited. Who followed

him for millennia, giving himself away to Aziraphale without ever expecting anything in return. Without ever imagining a possibility that Aziraphale could feel the same way as him. And if the

thought of the hopelessness Crowley must have felt for thousands of years didn’t tear him in two!

  
He wanted to travel back in time, to the Garden, to Mesopotamia, to Golgotha, to Rome, to any of the million meetings they’d had over the course of time and shake some sense into his past

self. Aziraphale used to hold Heaven’s lies close to his heart, shielding himself against Crowley’s love. He thought the demon to be cunning, wicked, and loveless. For millennia, he let himself

believe that Crowley’s affection was only a ruse to tempt him into Falling. Oh, how utterly and completely wrong he was.

Aziraphale had never met any other demon before Crowley, and he never realized how different his demon was from all of the rest of Hell. Where Hastur and Ligur were ruthless and cruel,

Crowley was curious and determined. The demon would never admit it, but he was endlessly kind and softhearted. Aziraphale remembers back to Rome when he had caught Crowley passing

out loaves of bread to beggars in alleyways and slipping coins into their pockets. Or of the hundreds of children he had smuggled onto Noah’s boat, and painstakingly found homes for after

the Flood. Crowley worked himself up into a state every time Aziraphale said it, but there was no better description; the demon was nice. Despite how hard he may try not to be.

It seemed impossible, but despite his demonic status, Crowley still held such a powerful love for the world around him. And despite having Fallen, he could still sense a strong feeling of faith

emitting from the demon. Often times, Aziraphale wondered if Crowley possessed more faith in Her than half of the lot Upstairs. He had certainly never overheard Gabriel pray to Her like

Crowley had. Which, looking back, Aziraphale probably wasn’t supposed to know about the praying bit either, but some things couldn’t be helped when two people are living in the same

space. How absurd. A demon, still speaking, still pleading, to the God that had cast him away. The beloved child, holding onto the belief that their parent could do no wrong. Hoping that She

may listen, and respond to his still flowing questions and prayers. It took 6,000 years for Aziraphale to realize that maybe it is She, who is no longer worthy of Crowley.

Crowley, with his ironclad faith and endless love and loyalty. Who possessed such curiosity about the world and gazed reverently up at the stars. The stars, who’s names and shapes he all knew

intimately, back from Creation.

Yes, Crowley was more than worthy of God’s love, and even more so Aziraphale’s. The problem was getting the demon to believe that himself. Years of Hell’s torment had thrown Crowley

in shadow, trapped behind dark curtains of self-hatred and doubt. He found his eyes cursed and horrid. Aziraphale thought them carved from the blessed sun themselves, teeming with liquid

gold fueled by the fire of Crowley’s ever-present heart. It is all Aziraphale can do to scare away his demon’s shadows, to peel away each shadowed layer to reveal the beautiful center. Crowley

was worth it. He was so worth it, it hurt. His smile, sharp and genuine. His laugh, loud and boisterous. His fingers, long and elegant. His hair the color of dying stars that he had formed with

his own hands.

Crowley was the most beautiful thing Aziraphale had ever laid eyes on.

And as he lay in bed, book in hand, gazing down at the head of tousled red hair and asleep smoothed face resting on his chest, tucked away in their South Downs cottage hidden away from the

world, Aziraphale swore on everything he thought holy, that he would ensure that one day Crowley would see himself the way Aziraphale did. Lovelier than all of Creation.


End file.
